


Laundry Day

by cloudwisp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I'm a sucker for that headcanon, M/M, Oneshot, They meet in a laundrette, Tiny mentions of, chubby!marco, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudwisp/pseuds/cloudwisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every laundry day Jean sees the same perfect guy at the laundrette. If only he manged to find an excuse to talk to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> this comes from my love of dr horrible
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The bell over the door of the laundrette chimes and I find my eyes being drawn away from where I’m loading dirty laundry into a washing machine. As I watch the new customer enter the little building my lips curl up into a smile, my face may have heated up in a blush too (but barely though, seriously).

I knew he’d be in today but I’d still been waiting anxiously for his arrival. It’s not like I’d made sure that my laundry day coincided with his or anything – it was just a very happy coincidence on my part, that’s all. Connie and I had agreed on a timetable, the shorter male would do the laundry on one Saturday and I would do it on the next Saturday. Apparently that was how the other man must have done his laundry too – him one week and his roommate another. (There had been a few times that I had taken Connie’s slot on the washing timetable and none of those times had I seen my favourite laundrette-goer, not that I was disappointed or anything. Nope, not at all).

But today he was here - just across the store, loading his washing into a machine. I let out a sigh, why couldn’t he have picked a machine a little closer? I huff as I slot my coins into the washer and start up the cycle. Well then, time to waste half an hour… What to do? What I always do, of course – creep on that frustratingly perfect man.

I park my ass on one of those awful, rickety chairs lining the room and pull a book from my satchel (I mean, I can’t just blatantly stare at the man, I need to look occupied with something other than his fucking brilliant butt). I open up the book and take in absolutely nothing as I scan the pages and absently turn over to the next.

He sits down right next to the window and actually begins to read, unlike me. His book is called… I squint, even in my glasses I’m finding it hard to make out the words. Fuck it. The cover is a pale yellow with some kind of squiggly pattern on it, I know that much.

The sun streams in through the window and he looks like some heavenly being with the way the soft light surrounds his slightly pudgy form. His tanned round face, covered with those hundreds of freckles, is practically glowing.

I wish I knew his name, I really do. I know it would be something really nice, something that would feel wonderful rolling off my tongue. _Well, if you weren’t such a dork you could go ask him_ , my own mind argues. _Fuck off, internal monologue_.

He shifts in his chair and giggles at something in his book – yes, he _giggles_. It’s such a perfect sound.

I run a hand through my hair, forgetting my bandana. Ugh, gonna have to redo it now. I always wear my trusty red headband when I’m doing chores like this – keeps my hair out the way. I push my hair back and tie the red, patterned cloth at the top of my head. Eren says it’s girly and laughs every time he sees me in it but, you know what? Fuck Jaeger. I like it. Sasha even says it looks cute. And yeah, I am cute. Not as cute as Freckles over there but decent enough – cuter than Jaeger anyway. I wander if Freckles thinks it’s cute…

~oOo~

I watch him over the top of my book. Ugh, he’s so perfect.

He sits in one of the chairs across the room, slumped over. He puffs his cheeks out and wrinkles up his nose in a really cute manner before sighing loudly.

I take in his appearance today – his black, thick-rimmed glasses and that little red bandana keeping back his light brown hair. I smile at how intense his amber gaze is as he watches his washing spinning in the machine (how is not getting dizzy?). I swear for a split second they flick over in my direction… I’m pretty sure I’m blushing.

What am I doing? Read, Marco. Read! Stop creeping, it’s… creepy!

I just can’t focus. He stands up as his machine signals it’s time to remove the laundry. I pray he’s gonna use the dryer, I don’t want him to leave yet. I mean, if he stays a _little_ longer maybe I’ll build up the courage to talk to him… It’s always a possibility, right?

Bandana makes his way over to the dryers and I have an internal celebration. I suppress a laugh as his lanky legs carry him in my direction. He kinda walks like a baby giraffe… clumsy and unsure of how to manoeuvre on such long legs.

He bundles the wet clothes into the massive tumble dryer and inserts his coins before coming to sit two chairs over from me.

~oOo~

I don’t have a clue why I sat so close, really, I don’t. But now isn’t the time to panic – _you don’t wanna look like an idiot, right? Pull yourself together, Jean._

I’m close enough to see that his book is titled ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. Hm, never read it. I think I recall seeing Mikasa reading it once but I can’t be sure.

I’m itching to talk to him… But what do I say? Even if I knew, it wouldn’t come out right, I know it. It’ll be scrambled to the point of no recognition through nervousness. Why is my heart beating so fast?

His machine’s cycle finishes and he gets up to collect his washing. My heart sinks, he’s gonna leave now – Freckles never uses the dryer.

With his clothes all thrown into his basket he heads for the door. Once again, not a word has passed between us. I just need an excuse to engage in conversation with him…

He’s walking through the door when I find my excuse. Out of the corner of my eye I see an item of crumpled clothing beside his washing machine – it must be something of his. I pick it up and without hesitation run after him, the bell chiming as I leave the laundrette after him.

“Hey!” I call out to him. He stops in the parking lot and turns towards me. He frowns and I hold out the garment in explanation as I close the gap between us. “You dropped, um…”

I never actually checked what it was. I shake it a little so all the creases fall out and I take in what I’m holding. A pair of pants. I’m holding his pants. My face feels so hot so suddenly, I’m sure that’s not normal. Freckles is also bright red, his freckles are blurred out with the dark hue of his blush.

Confidence, Jean, confidence. I study the pattern on the pants – a dog and a boy repeated over the fabric again and again. “Adventure Time, huh?”

“Oh my God, their Armin’s!” he defends himself. “I mean – they’re my roommate’s! They’re not mine.”

It’s obvious they are his, he wouldn’t be blushing so hard otherwise. “Too bad. I love that show.”

His blush fades a little and he finds it in him to make eye contact. His eyes are so goddamn pretty, all brown and tiny golden flecks. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Marceline is my favourite,” Freckles mumbles. I wanna scream, he’s so fucking adorable.

“She ain’t nothin’ on BMO,” I challenge, grinning. He smiles too, if only a small one.

“Well, we all have our opinions, right?”

“I suppose so. It’s just that some opinions are more right than others.” I smirk.

“C-can I have my pants back… please?” He holds out his hand.

“Oh, so they are yours now?” I tease. I give them back anyway.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he places the boxers into his laundry basket.

We stand in silence for a little while and I shuffle my feet. “I’m Jean,” I say to break the silence. I stick out my hand for him to shake. He takes it – his hands are so soft.

“Um, Marco,” he replies. I just knew it, his name suits him so well.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marco,” I state.

“You too, Jean,” he says, finally smiling fully.

“I have to get back to my washing. But, err, I’ll see you another time?” I say reluctantly.

“Yeah. Of course we will,” Marco assures.

I grin and wave as I run back to the laundrette. I can’t wait for my next laundry day.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! ~*


End file.
